Elysium: Book 1: Enchantment
by Rabid Chibi Squirrels Inc
Summary: Chapters 3 finally up. Eragon learns from Nasuada about the arrival of a dragon's egg from across the sea, and many questions come to mind. RR
1. Prologue All Shall Fade

**Our first Eragon fic!**

**The book was great, and right now I'm on book 2: _Eldest_. Did the third book come out yet? I think it's supposed to be called _Empire_ or something? People, go to _Shurtugal (dot) com_, it's a great Eragon site. My favorite character is Murtagh! Yay Murtagh!**

**By the way, this is part one in an _Eragon_ series thingy. Unfortunately, I don't know how the whole thing ends, so I'm making it all up! So, if and when in the thrid part comes out that Murtagh somehow manages to die, IGNORE IT FOR THIS FIC! He's alive and has mended his ways! I SWEAR IN THE ANCIENT LANGUAGE HE HAS!**

**Oh, speaking of the Ancient Language... All the special letters.. I can't do them on this computer... and it sucks... so... you should know the words in the languages, right?**

**Elysium**

**_Elysium_ was the dwelling area of happy souls after death as concieved by the ancient Greeks and Romans. This paradise was imagined as either a concrete region or a state of existance.**

_**Book One:**_

**Enchantment**

** en-chant'-ment, _v_., – bewitch; beguile; charm**

_**Prologue:**_

**All Shall Fade**

"The sunny skies break through the clouds

as the rays bathe the mountain ridges.

I take your hand and we go to the place

we call ours. The entire world becomes darker.

My body turns cold and I cry as you disappear

into the darkness. Your starry eyes light up the night

and I think of how it was before the world

turned gray and the skies fell. Now, the rain falls

as the tears fall from my eyes. I lie here and think

that we can never go back. I fall through a pit

of blackness clutching to your body for dear life.

The wind roars and that's all I can hear.

Through mist and shadow, to the edge of the night.

All shall fade. All shall fade."

-- "Untitled", Anonymous

It was dark. A dark abyss. No light shone through. The wind howled around the figure, rustling it's grey cloak, tattered and worn and drenched from the rain. The hood was pulled up over it's head, obscuring it's features. However, the figure's grey eyes lit up in a silvery blaze as the lightning illuminated them.

Thunder crackled in the distance, and lightning broke through the sky. Still, the figure pressed on, determined to brave the fierce storm. Again, the lightning sliced the sky, and it's surroundings were revealed in that brief moment.

Great trees, once beautiful and full of life, were now great grey structures surrounding it, trapping it in this dark world. The leaves had fallen long ago, and winter's cold breath was on the air. The figure could see nothing other than their grey stalks, in every direction. Some had fallen, to never get up. Their leaves littered the ground and crunched under it's horse's hooves.

The abrupt mass of light and the crackle of thunder spooked it's noble steed. It whinnied and began to back up in frantic steps, eyes rolling around in fear. The figure bent over and gently rubbed it's neck. This had somewhat of an effect, for the horse stopped, and stayed still. It snorted in fear.

The figure gently murmured words of comfort in the ancient language, letting them flow from it's mouth and roll of it's tongue in light, almost whispering breaths, and an elegant, feminine tone.

"_Ganga fram,_" The mysterious, cloaked one instructed. The horse lept up in a blaze of white as another bolt flashed through the sky. It started forward at a slow trot, then melted into a sprint. Leagues flew by, as did the trees, becoming nothing more than grey blurs in the dark.

_Hoofbeats behind me..._

The cloaked figure turned it's head to scan the area that fled behind it. There was nothing, it seemed. But it knew someone—some_thing_—was following it. And it was dangerous.

It turned forward, it's breath coming in ragged gasps as it urged it's stallion onward. There they were. The heavy hoofprints racing behind it, eager to catch up with it. _No! I cannot be caught! It must be delivered!_

One hand strayed from the reigns to finger the hilt of a sword at it's waist, waiting should it need to defend itself. It then slipped into the folds of the cloak to run along the hard edge of... something... something sacred... something important.

"_Blothr!_" Stop!

The horse suddenly skidded to a halt and swerved around to face what was threatening. The figure's keen eyes searched in the dark. Nothing was behind it. Everything was in place in the forest. It drew the long sword, the finest crafted by the elves, and sharpened to a dangerous point. It waited, eyes narrowed. It's heart beat wildly in it's chest.

Finally, something shot out from behind a tree in front of it. The figure brought the sword up to block. A black arrow fell harmlessly to the ground.

Lightning flashed, illuminating the group of Urgals in front of it. There were at least twelve of the ugly brutes! Their knarled horns gleaming black in the light. Two were hidden behind trees, archers. The rest were scattered amongst the litter, swords and javelins in hand.

The mystery figure held out one hand, a slender hand with long, sharp clawlike nails, curled forward in an eloquent and graceful manner. The Urgals stared, stupefied. It's hand uncurled suddenly, it's silver eyes gleaming under the hood, and it hissed, "_Brisingr!_" White light shot forth from the figure's palm, enveloping the Urgals in its magic. Their screams of agony and torment echoed through the night. The figure sneered, then turned and fled into the night as their cries of horror and death died down.

Nothing was left in the dark forest. The rain washed the Urgals, bathing them in its coolness. However, they did not feel it. Their faces were contorted in agony and pain. Thunder clapped in the distance. The storm was passing.

Finally, the wind died down, and the rain stopped. The forest was quiet, and nothing stirred.

It's vision blurred as it sheathed the sword and a wave of pain assaulted it. Stumbling forward, the figure fell off it's horse, who also collapsed. The figure fell and then stopped as rough, strong hands grabbed it around it's slim waist and broke it's fall.

The figure's hood fell, revealing that it was a woman, a beautiful one, at that, with long, cascading black hair, a fair face, those grey eyes, and long, skinny, pointed ears that were at least five and a half inches long. An elf...

There were murmurs of a strong voice, and drenched, shaggy brown hair was all she saw as her vision blurred and faded into black.

_And darkness enveloped her..._

"_All shall fade. All shall fade..._"


	2. Back To Carvahall

**Elysium**

**_Elysium_ was the dwelling area of happy souls after death as concieved by the ancient Greeks and Romans. This paradise was imagined as either a concrete region or a state of existance.**

_**Book One:**_

**Enchantment**

** en-chant'-ment, _v_., – bewitch; beguile; charm**

_**Chapter 1:**_

**Back To Carvahall**

"Nowhere, nowhere to be found,

Searching for it everywhere.

It's absence leaves me astound.

I wish I could get it back.

Not there in the tree house, not here in my room,

The playground hasn't seen it for days.

It will all be over, my happiness and bloom.

I wish I could get it back.

The flexibilities of life; gone forever.

If the lever of my burden doesn't return,

The fun, the joy gone forever.

I wish I could get it back.

For people's affection, it was a key.

It made me the center of attention.

All these favors lost, you see?

I wish I could get it back.

It's going, it's going. Oh, please! Oh, please!

Can anyone stop it from leaving me?

And then for a moment I cease and see.

It's gone, it's gone. My childhood is gone."

-- "It's Gone", Anonymous

Eragon started over the hill and gasped at what he saw. His former home, his former life. It was shattered, a shadow of what it used to be. The houses were burnt, and everything was grey and lifeless. He stared out over it with sadness in his eyes.

Saphira padded up beside him and glanced at his somber expression. Then she, too, looked out over the fallen town. _This was Galbatorix's work._

_Aye,_ responded Eragon, _I only wish he were still alive, that I may exact my revenge once again. I have no home now. _There was sadness and anger in his voice; it was clear he wanted more revenge. But now that the corrupt King Galbatorix was dead, his cousin, Roran and his wife Katrina, safe, and his older brother, Murtagh, reformed once again, the bonds of Galbatorix's evil free from his mind, now that they were together... Who was there to enact revenge on?

Murtagh and Thorn, his own dragon, slowly approached him, nodded, then looked out over the destruction. "This was your home," Murtagh stated.

"Was... Now it's only a memory on the wind..." Eragon replied, not looking at him. Arya, the elf, Orik, the dwarf, and Roran and Katrina followed. Together, they stood upon the hill and gazed over what once was Carvahall.

Katrina sighed, crossing her arms, and leaning her head on Roran's shoulder. "It's been a long time since I've been here," she stated. Roran snaked his arms around her slim waist and pulled her into the safety of his chest. He sighed and buried his face in her hair.

"Roran," Eragon began, "What had become of the farm after I left?" He'd nearly forgotten about his old farm, where he, Roran, and his uncle Garrow, had lived. He remembered hunting in the Spine, the dangerous mountains that lay to the west of Carvahall and Therinsford, and to the east of Narda, Teirm, and Kuasta. However, the Spine and it's main peak, Utgard, were dwarfed by the Beor Mountain Range.

The Beor Mountains were the home of the dwarves, and their great cities; Tarnag, Buragh, Galfni, Dalgon, Orthfad, and the city of Tronjheim inside of the great mountain Farthen Dur. Tronjheim once was the home of the Varden, the rebels who were against Galbatorix, but after the great battle with the Shade, Durza, the Varden had to move west to seek refuge in Surda.

To the north of the Beor Mountains was the Hadarac Desert, a harsh climate that stretched for miles. Far to the east was the city of Dras Leona. On the outskirts was the mountain Helgrind, and the burial site of the former Dragon Rider, Brom, who was Eragon's mentor, and the creator of the Varden. To the north of the Hadarac was Du Weldenvarden, the great forest, home of the elves and their capital, Ellesmera, and other great elfin cities.

"The farm..." Roran said, almost reverently, as he acknowledged his former home. He snapped out of his reverie and led the troop through the abandoned town. "When I left, the farm was still growing grass, and it may also be harboring weeds. I was planning to marry Katrina and live there and provide for her there, but due to the unfortunate events that followed your disappearance..." And he left it at that. Eragon knew perfectly well what had transpired while he was away.

Thorn and Saphira swerved and looped through the air, riding the air currents high above their heads. The breeze was very good, gentle and warm. After all, it was the middle of summer, why shouldn't it be warm? The warm sun glittered and sparkled on the two dragon's scales, casting red and blue along the clouds. The lights danced around them as they dove in and out of the white puffs, becoming drenched in the water vapor, and roaring with excitement.

Now that Galbatorix's rule was over, and the new King was appointed, there was no one who opposed them, and they were free to do as they wished. It was relaxing to know there were no more enemies, but Eragon still tensed when he heard something near. Nowadays his palm rarely tingled a warning, so everything was safe.

That was how it should be.

Roran and the others made their way through Carvahall and to what once was the farm Eragon and Roran had spent their lives on. The house and barn were gone, but moss covered the foundation stones and grass grew through what was left of the gardens. At one time, it was beautiful. But now...

Eragon stared sullenly at the clearing. Small white flowers grew this way and that, as did wild strawberries and other weeds and plants. This was his home. And it was gone.

_At least it looks better than when the Ra'zac first destroyed it,_ he observed. Rage filled him at the memory. That was when Garrow died...

A small stone was in front of where the house used to be. Ingrained into the ground before it was a stone tablet. Eragon knelt before it and read:

Here lies Garrow

A respectable farmer

And honorable father and uncle

May he find peace in the next life

Eragon said a blessing in respect to his late uncle, and got up. Roran and Katrina paid their respects to the deceased farmer as well, while Murtagh, Thorn, Saphira, Arya, and Orik bowed their heads in respect.

After a moment of respectful passed, Roran coughed and said, "Come. This place brings bad memories, we should leave before it gets dark." Eragon nodded, and everyone made their leave.

As they began to walk back, Murtagh clasped Eragon on the arm and looked into his brother's eyes. Eragon saw deep respect and sympathy in Murtagh's brown depths. He let a smile pass his lips. "Everything will look up, brother," Murtagh said. Eragon nodded.

"Garrow wouldn't have wanted us to linger and grieve. He was always telling Roran and I to never let the casualties in life get us down, and to keep moving on, and be strong."

"Garrow was wise," Murtagh said, "I only wish I'd known him before he died."

A moment passed.

"Do you think Garrow would have wanted to meet me?" Murtagh asked.

"He would have been proud to have you as a nephew," Eragon replied, smiling. Murtagh smiled as well, but stayed silent for the rest of the trip.

They soon made their way to the Anora River, and continued along it's great length, heading towards Therinsford. But before they reached the bend, they turned south, towards Yazuac and the Ninor River. When it began to get dark, they made camp, halfway to Yazuac. It was straining to walk, seeing as they had no horses, and the dragons could not hold all of them.

Eragon sat next to Orik in front of the campfire while Roran helped Murtagh make dinner.

"You are considered a hero to our people, Argetlam," Orik said.

"As are you," Eragon commented, "You not only accompanied a Rider to Ellesmera, but you stood before Queen Izlanzadi, something that a dwarf has not accomplished for many years. The two races have mostly kept to opposite ends of Alagaesia, correct?"

"Aye, we have for many years," Orik replied, gruffly. "I will truly miss you, Eragon Shadeslayer. But while you accompany me back to Tronjheim, you and Saphira must keep your end of the bargain."

"Bargain?" Eragon questioned. So many things had happened after their departure from Tronjheim, that he'd forgotten many of what lay in the past.

_Do you not remember, little one? With my magic, we promised to restore Isidar Mithrim to it's former state. The dwarves will be proud and grateful in we can fulfill that promise,_ Saphira's voice rang in his head.

"Ah! That's right! Isidar Mithrim is still in disrepair!" Eragon exclaimed aloud.

"I have recieved word from Tronjheim that they have gathered all the pieces are they are put into place. Isidar Mithrim awaits your assistance, Saphira Bjartskular," the dwarf said to Saphira, using the nickname they had given her; Brightscales.

_Please tell him that I am prepared to return the Star Sapphire to it's full glory. And tell him that it is my honor to assist for the good of the dwarves and that if they are pleased, I am content._

Eragon relayed the message, to which Orik gave a hearty laugh. "Ah, ah, yes. That is good. And we are honored to have your assistance. It is greatly appreciated."

Saphira padded up behind Eragon and settled behind him. She bent her head down to stare the dwarf in the eye, which surprised him enough to make him stumble backwards. Saphira laughed, the gravely laugh that Eragon had heard her do when she mocked his naivete. He smiled at the memories of their first weeks together, and how she'd grown to the large span she now was.

After eating their meal, Eragon and Murtagh sparred to keep up their swordsmanship, but when Murtagh backed down and Arya jumped in, Eragon found the magically-dulled edge of Arya's sword at his throat quickly. She laughed and helped him up. Murtagh and Eragon talked late into the night, until the others began to tire. Sleep soon found Murtagh, and Eragon found himself drifting off, laying against Saphira's hard, yet warm, underside. She stretched a wing over Eragon's sleeping form, and her mind touched his for the last time that night.

_Good night, little one._


	3. Attack on the Road to Gil'ead

**Elysium**

**_Elysium_ was the dwelling area of happy souls after death as concieved by the ancient Greeks and Romans. This paradise was imagined as either a concrete region or a state of existance.**

_**Book One:**_

**Enchantment**

** en-chant'-ment, _v_., – bewitch; beguile; charm**

_**Chapter 2:**_

**Attack On The Road To Gil'ead**

"Born in a land

Far from here,

Raised by strong hands

That protected me from fear.

Playing on the streets

And learning to be a child,

Running on my feet

While the world grew wild.

Moving to another land

Where things seemed different,

Trying to accept

All the changes.

Growing older

And learning to be a woman,

Watching the others

Without forgetting who I am.

These worlds

Made me stronger

And my thoughts

Have grown deeper.

These countries

Have given me life,

I keep on learning

As I continue to survive.

Now I stand

Between these lands

Because two hearts in one

Is what I've become."

-- "Two Hearts In One", Anonymous

It must have been the heat that awoke Eragon first. He poked the underside of Saphira and she retracted her large wing. In the morning heat, the membrane between the bony "fingers" of the dragon's wings had actually intensified the sun's warmth. Murtagh must have felt it too, because he gasped from the heat as he came out from under Thorn's shelter.

Eragon put a finger to his lips to quiet his older brother. While they were awake, the others were still asleep in the shade of the trees. He beckoned Murtagh to follow him, as he strapped the saddle onto Saphira. Murtagh did the same to Thorn, and the two dragons and their riders rose quietly into the air without waking the others.

They travelled north a while to the Anora River, and landed by the bank. The two men stripped of their tunics and enjoyed the cool water rushing past their waists and the feel of the smooth pebbles under their feet. After good leisurely time in the river, they clothed themselves again and took to the air to return back to their camp. Arya, Orik, Katrina, and Roran were finished packing and were making their way south again, not stopping, knowing the two riders would catch up either way.

They pushed onward, past Yazuac, spanning the length of the Ninor and passing Daret, where they stopped to get food and horses. The rest of the trip ran smoothly, for galloping on horseback was faster than walking. Katrina and Roran shared their horse, after all, Roran was _very_ protective of his bride. They were almost to Isenstar Lake, when they decided to stop for the night. They'd covered many leagues, an incredible feat for such a large company.

Eragon paced along the bank of the Insenstar Lake, watching Thorn and Saphira dive in and out of the water. The night was growing longer, and the stars twinkled overhead, only blocked by a few thin, wispy grey clouds. The moon was half-missing, but it glimmered brilliantly among the twinkling fireflielike stars.

They ate their meals and retreated to bed. Eragon was just about to lay back when his palm tingled. He bolted upright, his senses on high alert. Murtagh apparently sensed it, too, because he was at Eragon's side in an instant. He drew his hand-and-a-half sword while Eragon drew Zar'roc. (**I know Murtagh takes it at the end of Book 2, but I made him give it back and be the nice older brother he's supposed to be. :D**)

"It's that way," Murtagh whispered. Eragon nodded, and they tiptoed out of the camp. Thorn and Saphira remained close, but far enough to not rouse suspicion. They had to be near in case of an ambush, but they also had to be hidden so they actually _could_ get there and not be captured themselves.

They crept around trees and rocks, with the starlight and moonlight guiding them as they made they way about a half-league away from camp. (**I think that's a far distance, but still close enough to protect it... I don't know how long a league is...**)

Movement in the trees made Eragon and Murtagh shift their attention to the one tree. There was nothing there. "Split up," Murtagh whispered, "We can cover more ground."

At first, Eragon was reluctant to leave, but he also wanted to kill whatever might be threatening their peace. He finally nodded, and he and Murtagh went separate ways.

Eragon crept carefully around a tree and peek through the branches. There was nothing in the clearing ahead, but just to be sure...

He quickly tossed a small rock into the clearing and stiffened, waiting. Nothing. Still on high alert, he crept into the clearing, looking around. There was still nothing there. He was about to disregard the tingleling sensation and return to bed when a gruff yelp reached his ears, followed by the swishing and snapping of tree branches.

_Murtagh!_ He rushed out of the clearing and followed the direction Murtagh had gone... to find his older brother hanging by his foot from a large tree, arms crossed and eyebrows furrowed in frustration. His sword had dropped to the ground only a foot and a half from where his head was hanging, and he was glaring at it, almost as if he glared long enough, it would leap into his hand.

He finally eyed Eragon.

"What are you doing?" Eragon asked, in a whisper.

"Oh, you know... just _hanging_ around..." Murtagh replied, sarcastically.

"What happened?"

"I heard something over here, so I went to check it out. But the next thing I know, I'm dangling from this tree."

"That wasn't a smart thing to do, now, was it?"

"Just shut up and get me down!" Murtagh shouted, in a whisper. Eragon chuckled, despite himself, and swung at the rope suspending Murtagh in the air. It snapped, sending the young man sprawling into the grass. He got up, retrieved his sword, and stomped back to Eragon. "Mention this to anyone, and I'll shove Zar'roc down your throat," he threatened.

Eragon chuckled again, but nodded. The two made their way back to camp.

However, just as they were about to enter the clearing they'd set up in, an arrow had lodged itself into a tree trunk, just a centimeter in front of Eragon's face. He leapt back in surprise and grabbed Zar'roc. He and Murtagh glared into the darkness from whence the arrow came, but only one Urgal stomped out.

"_Thrysta vindr!_" Murtagh called out, and a ball of swirling air shot at the Urgal, knocking it back. Eragon shuddered as it hit a tree with a sickening crack. It's neck had broke.

They waited for another attack, but when it did not come, and they searched with their awareness, they found nothing there. "That was it?" Eragon questioned.

"Strange, why would there be only one Urgal. We can't even sense any others. Very strange." Murtagh said. They made their way back to camp after disposing of the body... only to find that five Urgal bodies had been mutilated and were piled up and being burnt by Arya, Orik, Katrina and Roran.

"What happened here?" Murtagh asked.

"Saphira awoke us to the danger, and killed the Urgals who ambushed us," Arya explained, "She explained that you two had gone off to find the danger, but the danger ended up coming to us."

"You mean we just went out... for no reason?" Eragon questioned, in disbelief.

_I don't think it was for no reason, Shadeslayer,_ Thorn said, in Eragon's head, _You and Murtagh killed the remaining Urgal that could have ambushed us while we disposed of the others, so you did a good job._

_He speaks the truth, little one,_ Saphira commented.

"Okay..." Eragon said. After discussing the possible reasons for Urgals to be out this far, they then retreated to bed.

In the morning, they awoke, packed, and continued on their way to Gil'ead. They stayed for a day to stock up on supplies they'd failed to get in Darget, and continued on their way. The bordered the edge of the Hadarac Desert and quickly made their way towards the captial of Uru'baen, skirting the Ramr River, and continuing on southeastward, to the edge of the Beor Mountains. The trip took them around four days, thanks to the horses' agility.

Following the way they'd gone after they met Arya, they led the company deep into the Beors, finally coming to the Beartooth River, and the lake that was entryway to the Varden's hideout in Farthen Dur. Eragon knocked with the rock, said the password, and they entered the dwarves halls.


	4. News of an Egg

**Elysium**

**_Elysium_ was the dwelling area of happy souls after death as concieved by the ancient Greeks and Romans. This paradise was imagined as either a concrete region or a state of existance.**

_**Book One:**_

**Enchantment**

** en-chant'-ment, _v_., – bewitch; beguile; charm**

_**Chapter 3:**_

**News of an Egg**

The dwarves halls filled with their dim red light produced by their strangely crafted lanterns that hung on the walls. It was just as Eragon remembered it. They passed through the gates with the large golden gryphons and came to the city of Tronjheim. In front of them, the dwarves were busy fitting a piece of the Isidar Mithrim, the Star Sapphire, into the mold. Once it was in, the halls filled with cheering and applause at their accomplishment.

Finally, all eyes turned to the group. The dwarves bowed, as did the remaining members of the Varden, in front of Saphira and Thorn. Eragon glanced at Murtagh, who shrugged.

"Eragon! Murtagh!" came a cry from the back of the crowd of Varden warriors. The people cleared the way, and Nasuada, the daughter of Ajihad and the leader of the Varden, strode toward them. She grinned ear-to-ear and hugged them both. "It is so good to see you both, Argetlam," she said.

Eragon bowed. "And it good to see you as well, my Lady," he said, "Tell me, how goes the Varden?"

"We are steadily rising back to our former state. As you can see, we, the Varden and the dwarves, have taken back Farthen Dur. Well, half of the Varden stay here. The other half has decided to stay in Surda," she informed him. Taking a step back, she looked at Murtagh. "Murtagh, I see you've returned to us."

Murtagh bowed, his now longer hair falling in front of his eyes. "My sincerest apologies, Lady Nasuada. I'd gotten psytracked during my stay in Uru'baen, and it was not a pleasant one. I did not wish to fight against you, but there was nothing I could do."

"I understand. Galbatorix had known both yours and Thorn's real names, so he had you under his control. As much as I'd like to know how you came to resist Galbatorix's spell, I'm afraid there is work to be done. As you can see behind me," Nasuada gestured to the broken fragments of Isidar Mithrim fit into the mold, "the pride of Farthen Dur still has yet to be completed."

_It would be our honor to restore the Star Sapphire to it's rightful place, my Lady,_ Saphira commented, giving a little bow.

Nasuada turned to the saphire dragon. She curtsied gracefully, "Ah, Saphira Bjartskular. What a kind twist of fate that we should meet again after so long."

"My Lady, if you do not mind me asking," Roran said, "but how do you plan to get the Star Sapphire to the top of Farthen Dur?"

"Yes... Well, we're still trying to find a way..." Nasuada said, scratching the back of her head, nervously.

Thorn nudged Murtagh's side. "What is it?"

_If it would help, I could fly the Sapphire up there._

Murtagh repeated Thorn's idea. Nasuada scratched her chin. "I would think it would be too heavy for you, Thorn Bjartskular. The Isidar Mithrim weighs good over 10,000 kilos. (**Question: Is that heavy? Or should I switch it to tons?**) I doubt that even the combined strength of you and Saphira would lift it. And to the top of Farthen Dur? It is madness!"

"What if we helped with our magic?" Eragon asked. Nasuada shook her head.

"It would do no good. It takes the required strength to attempt the feat physically, so either way you would be drained, or you would die. It's too risky for any of you to attempt something such as this."

"Not even the combined strength of Eragon, me, and the dragons?" Murtagh questioned.

"Not even with Glaedr, Oromis, if either were still alive, and Arya combined with you," Nasuada said. Eragon and Saphira hung their heads in respect for their fallen masters and muttered words of the Ancient Language. "Not even with the combined strength of the Varden's mages and Du Vrangr Gata. I'm afraid that Isidar Mithrim may stay here for the time being."

A thought suddenly struck Eragon. "What about the last dragon egg?"

Arya shook her head, "Eragon, Galbatorix cracked it, remember? He killed the last dragon that was inside the green egg." Eragon shook with rage. That gave him one more thing for him to wish Galbatorix was still alive so that he could kill him again. He glanced at the dragons, and they, too, showed clear signs of their anger.

Smoke billowed out of their nostrils and they growled in frustration. _Galbatorix was a murderer. May he suffer a thousand deaths in Hell._

"As was our father," Murtagh murmured. He glared to no one in particular at the mere mention of his father.

After a few moments of silence, Nasuada cleared her throat. She turned to Arya, Orik, Katrina and Roran. "I apologize for ignoring you until now. Welcome back to Farthen Dur and Tronjheim." She stepped aside, gesturing for them to follow. "Come, a royal feast will be made. Let us not speak of any more misfortunes. It is a time to celebrate! Galbatorix is dead and you all have come safely to where you all belong. Come, friends!"

They glanced back at the Star Sapphire, then turned back to Nasuada with a questioning stare.

"The dragons may fix it later. Come, we must celebrate this joyous time!" Nasuada led them through Tronjheim to a grand hallway with a long banquet table. Nasuada seated herself at the head. Eragon and Murtagh sat on opposite ends next to her. Arya and Orik sat next to Murtagh while Roran and Katrina sat beside Eragon. The two dragons sat by their own large tables piled with meat and other delicasies. The Varden and dwarves seated themself down the long table, and they ate, mingling with each other.

Eragon noticed the child Elva seated next to Nasuada. She ate hungrily, then stopped and smiled around her food, and continued eating again. She ate like a ravenous wolf, even when her curse had been lifted and replaced with a blessing, a _real_ blessing. Eragon smiled when her violet eyes met his own brown ones.

They ate their fill and were invited to stay. The dragons would sleep in the Dragon Hold with the others close by, in the lower chambers.

:--:--:--:--:--:--:--:--:

"Roran, what do you think you'll do?" Eragon asked after the feast. He hadn't asked his cousin yet, but considering they were here now and that Carvahall was ruined, he couldn't put it off anymore.

"The rest of the villagers still stay in Surda's capital, but Katrina and I will return to Carvahall. We'll rebuild it and have everyone else return," Roran answered. He walked over to Eragon and put a hand on his shoulder. "It's good to have you back, Eragon."

"It's good to be back," the Dragon Rider answered, smiling. Roran glanced behind him.

"Katrina's calling me. I'll see you later, brother," he said, grinning. He then left the room. The minute he was out, Saphira peeked her head in the window.

_You're cousin is a noble man,_ she said to him.

_Indeed, he is,_ Eragon responded, _He was my inspiration when we were younger. I wanted to be like him._

There was a soft knock on the door, and in came Murtagh. He pulled a chair to Eragon, and sat down. At first, he refused to speak, until Eragon asked him, "Why have you come, my brother?"

Murtagh looked up at his younger brother, and sighed, slightly. "I have come with a message from Lady Nasuada," he said. However, he seemed distant. "She wishes to speak to you, Eragon." Eragon nodded, thanked him, and stood, going out the door. Saphira followed him. Together, they went to Nasuada's chambers.

Murtagh waited until they were out of sight before slowly getting up and wandering towards his own respective room. He ignored Thorn's babbling, and laid down on his bed. He stared at the ceiling, until he finally closed his eyes and slept.

:--:--:--:--:--:--:--:--:

"You requested our prescence, my Lady?" Eragon asked, bowing before the leader of the Varden. Nasuada glanced at him and smiled, unusually happy. She got up from her seat and approached Eragon, grabbing his hands.

"We have done it, Argetlam!" she said, "We have found the last egg!"

Eragon was nearly shocked speechless. Words finally fumbled from his mouth. "What? How? I thought the last egg had been destroyed by Galbatorix. How can there still be another egg?"

"We are not sure, Eragon," Nasuada laughed, "But some of our best mages had conducted a search for any spies, and we caught one."

"Spies, from who?"

"A rogue from across the seas! Can you imagine it, Argetlam? From across the great waters that we'd thought for so long were uncrossable! With this man was a strangely shaped rock which we'd confiscated, and it turned out to be a dragon egg."

Eragon was speechless. "If this egg came from across the seas, then perhaps . . ."

Nasuada nodded, smiling, "Perhaps the Dragons are not a dying race. Perhaps there is still hope!" She sobered a bit before saying, "But, we do not know if these dragons are like those in Alagaesia. They may be different. We are not sure, and if this dragon that hatches is unused to our lands, we may face the death of it. Do we dare risk it, Argetlam?"

Eragon thought a moment. A dragon's egg. From across the seas! Could it be a new breed of dragons? Or could it be something even more ancient than Saphira's breed? So many questions arose in his mind, his head grew heavy and achey thinking about it. He brushed his hand through his hair, softly rubbing against his temple, before he bowed.

"Forgive me, Lady Nasuada," he said, "I must think more about this, and my head is heavy with excitement."

Nasuada's face softened, and she put a hand on Eragon's shoulder. "No, forgive me, Eragon, I know it is late, and I have not taken this into much needed consideration. Please, rest. We will investigate this another time." She bowed before him and dismissed him.

Eragon walked back to his quarters, bid Saphira goodnight as she went to her place in the Dragon Hold. Sleep gnawed at him, until his eyes shut and his mind drifted far from Farthen Dur, far from Alagaesia, to that mysterious land across the seas . . .


End file.
